Seshriyha
by Khemuul
Summary: This is not a history of Alagaesia and its deep scars. Rather, this is a story of evil, magic, and thoughts of love. A story of an outside source aiding the cause of right. Murtagh x OC.
1. Prelude

Seshriyha

_The air was thick with dampness that chilled the very marrow in every body that ghosted inside the fortress. The stone held no memory of time past. Joy was a word long unknown. Life did not exist amidst the weight of pure nothing. This was Uru'baen as it was in present circumstances. A Dragon Rider named Galbatorix rules over his Empire since the slaughter many years ago in the aforementioned structure. But this is not a story of the past. This is not a history of Alagaesia and its deep scars. Rather, this is a story of evil, magic, and thoughts of love; and they are only but thoughts of love, for love cannot truly take root in the darkest of hearts. This is the tale of an ageless creature that looks like a human, but is not of any race known to the peoples of this world in which this telling takes place. And it begins with Murtagh, and his sullen stalking of the halls in a sleepless pacing…_

It was three weeks past the confrontation between the two siblings on the Burning Plains. And everyday since that pathetic loss was chockfull of dizzying machinations. It was only in the last few hours that things were quieting down, settling in for the calm before the storm. Amidst the darkest hours of the night, when men of this shift had forgotten the joys of the sun, Murtagh took to his silent treading upon the solid stone. Though he was quick to assume that his punishment for his "distortion of his orders" was to be swift and painful, Galbatorix merely looked down at him for a moment, verbalized a comment or two, and dismissed him without a care. The only sign of his understanding of the situation was his call to his courier to bring to him a word master. Murtagh was more disturbed by the nonchalance that prevailed the entire session; it was as though Galbatorix was smiling on the inside with a secret knowledge. What the knowledge pertained to he did not know, and was hesitant to seek out, but his curiosity took residence once more and he went about the castle in earnest. After two weeks of blank faces and concerned looks, Murtagh wisely lost interest and continued on as though the notion never took root. Though the Empire lost this battle, they were confident to achieve dominance once more in the upcoming engagement. Soldiers walked about with swelled chests and determined faces, even the scullery maids had a look of excited passion about them. Thorn had shared his disgust at the false hope Galbatorix had seeped into the air as of late. Murtagh agreed with his closest friend more than he could express. Every moment that passed, every secret meeting within his inner chambers, Galbatorix seemed to grow more and more powerful. And after a year of private investigation, he still did not know where his source of learning was, or what it was for that matter.

After ruminating over this last concern, he was interrupted by the presence of a very warm source in his mind, and it was not Thorn or Galbatorix. Breathing deep to regain control, he followed the fleeing source through many halls and servant passageways until he paused before a very solid looking portion of a wall. Cocking his head in confusion, he was slightly startled by the immediate unveiling of a comfortable room beyond the dim passage. Feeling the coaxing caress, he stepping in and noted that the _only_ entrance now sealed behind him. Survival instincts caused his eyes to slit and a viscous sneer to part his lips as he very carefully scanned the room till he lay eyes on every inch within sight and could see no living thing to be the source of the seductive warmth.

"That sneer does not suit you." The warmth now manifested in the breath of woman who whispered directly behind his left ear. Without moving he spoke.

"What is it that you want, nymph?" His voice rumbled with checked rage at the set up. He had better things to spend his time on.

"Nymph?!" The voice hissed, and immediately following the last vibration within his eardrum did the violent smarting of a backhand cut across his right cheek. Instinctively, he brought his hands to assess the true damage to the flesh and protect it shamelessly against another attack. Suddenly he was on his back, some _thing_ holding him down. "You are as insipidly arrogant as your father. 'Like father like son.' Is not that what you vapid creatures say?"

"I am nothing like my father." He burned. His rage became all consuming when he saw a woman of very short stature standing above him as though she were a man of important ruling. What he saw was a spoiled, haughty, supercilious young lady whom he assumed came from the upper Court.

"That, sir, is debatable, and if we were to embark on such a discussion, I would be more equipped to handle it than you."

"And what makes you believe that falsity?"

"Because I know you father. I've known him since he was fashioned in his mother's womb. You, never truly being around him for any character building time – "

"'Character building time?!'"

"YES! Interrupt me again and I will silence you for the duration of the dark priests' fast! You did not know your father as I do. In short, do not assume to be the wiser in any discussion when in my presence."

"Let me up, witch, so that I may put you in your place."

"And where might you think that be; beneath you? Now you listen here child, son of Morzan, Forsworn and spat upon. Harken to these words I am about to tell you. If the mighty King Galbatorix _himself_ does not even think _**thoughts**_ of contempt towards me, then I might warn you here and now not to test it. I have summoned you with the express interest of others. You will take it, you will learn from me, and you will be silent on all matters. From this moment you will not speak unless you are in my presence, and only then when I am in a mood to humor your obstinance. At last, Murtagh, you may rise up, and leave me. I will call for you when I am in a better state to handle our confrontations." With a dismissive wave of her hand, the overbearing weight that bolted him to the floor dissolved and he quickly thrust up off the floor till he stood erect once more. And like the mysterious entrance this woman had made, she had vanished similarly. Sensing a way out, he left through the same ethereal entrance as he had entered and retraced his steps back to his quarters in the dragon keep. Noting that Thorn was deep in slumber, he simply succumbed to the equally sublime nature of rest.


	2. Chapter 1

!!!ATTENTION!!! When I type "He," "Him," or "His" I am speaking of Galbatorix! If you can see the cynical irony in that, then you get fifty brownie points towards absolutely nothing but your own personal enjoyment. And I am very sorry for the absence, my spring semester has just begun and I finally have a small enclave of time to write before dashing off to reality once more. Believe me, I will be updating more often from here on out. I have the first seven chapters outlined. Hopefully I will get them all to you before March. Until then, Cheers!

* * *

Normally this set of circumstances was not unpleasant or unwelcome to Murtagh, but knowing that it was not natural, nor his choice, the imposed silence had become the focal point of his aggravation these past seven days. After leaving her study, he had attempted to convey his wishes to his personal servant but no sound passed his lips. His servant looked stricken, fearing that he would be beaten for not somehow understanding what his master was conveying to him. He was assured through an impromptu game of charades that no harm would come to him for his confusion. Murtagh had attempted to converse with several other individuals including the deputy guard, the scullery matron, and the young woman from the Courts he was meeting that night, though she would not have him if he could not sing the platitudes she longed to here. The next four days were spent scouring every passageway, known and secret, in hopes of coming across that thread of warmth that spoke of her mysterious keep. But every day was but another disappointment, and now he was called to Galbatorix, a meeting he was not looking forward to at all. Galbatorix was as moody and passionate as a woman on the rags at the dark of the moon; once He learned of his silence, Murtagh could wager his soul on the likelihood that a swift and harsh assault on his person would commence until He felt satisfied that he had learnt his "lesson".

"Murtagh to see you, my King."

"Allow." Stepping inside the inner chambers of King Galbatorix, Murtagh showed no sign of his awareness of his new surroundings, nor did his itching hypertension abate when he kneeled expertly while reciting his necessary introduction.

"I serve you in everyway, Master." Galbatorix smiled shrewdly at the title.

"I can hear that you have lost you voice. You lips move but not even your breath is heard. It is such an unnecessary curse, is it not?" Murtagh could only nod gravely.

"Well, she does have a temper, this you now know. I trust you have not spoken of her to anyone?" Murtagh nodded again. "And to Thorn?"

"Thorn does not know." He mouthed the words clearly for his king to read. Galbatorix was satisfied enough with his responses to nod calmly.

"Good. Now, how about I release you from you sentence?" He did not move his lips but curled his fingers in a slow beckoning, and very subtly Murtagh felt a cap come off his voice box. He cleared his throat once to check and was elated to hear his deep rumble once more.

"I thank you, my King."

"The great always balance cruelty with kindness." Galbatorix was known to say these flighty things more often these last few years, praising himself in the third person as though he were a great scholar observing from afar. "Now Murtagh, it seems that you have come across her."

"Her, Master?"

"Yes, the spirit that has chosen to teach me all the wonders this magic can hold. The woman you stumbled across in that passageway a week ago." At his confused and baffled expression, the king softened his approach. "She has informed, Murtagh, that she was the one to lure you into her Study, that this was not your fault. Had she not spoken for you, I would have assumed that you were up to something out of line again. We don't want to have another repeat of that."

"No, Master, I was not up to anything, I swear my life on it, and you may test me."

"I know that what you say is the truth, and I am very glad to see that you are coming along beautifully towards your culmination. Also, she apologizes for the other night, she hopes that in time you will come to see what she truly is. What is it that she is speaking of?"

"I was meeting with Selumy, Pritchkard's daughter, and she would not have me if I had no voice." Galbatorix roared with laughter at the scene playing out in his mind. Murtagh remained silent as he checked his annoyance. "Yes, she is a vain little creature, though she leaves nothing wanting in the eyes. She reminds me greatly of her mother when she was but 17 as well. She was such a beauty, had Pritchkard not done so well in securing my lands, I would have had her for myself. But, rewards must be given before you can treat yourself. Perhaps you may arrange another time in the future?"

"If I do not come across that spirit again, I will." This sent another wave of deep laughter that was not disturbing in the least but more infectious than most.

"Trust me, my son; you will be seeing far more of her shortly than you will ever care to. She and I have great plans for you. If you follow them clearly, and exceed our expectations, you may very well come to be at my side."

"Sir?" Murtagh had never heard such thoughts from the king before today. Never had he known of anyone ever coming close to being by his right hand. Galbatorix had never allowed such an opportunity to occur.

"Rest, now, Murtagh, for you will not know much of in a fortnight's time. And remember, from here these inner chambers are open to you, if ever you need me, ask and I shall answer." Murtagh bowed a most humble prostration, sincerely awed at the offer just made to him. Turning slowly, he left with a poise that hid the secrets of his mind. And like after so many meetings, the foremost conclusion was very simply, "Things will never be the same for Alageasia."

* * *


	3. Chapter 2

**Seshriyha**

_Chapter 2: To grow is to be in constant pain and struggle_

It was not even a full minute past twilight when he stepped into his inner chambers that Murtagh was stopped short by the very disturbing sight of seeing the She-Spirit that he had only said but an hour ago that he did not want to ever see again. She reclined on his settee with an air of authority much like the first introduction that they had had. This time he was able to actually take in her features in a very different light. She was still just as short, but she had the figure of a voluptuous woman that was very alluring. But he also took note of the finely honed muscles that lay beneath her pale flesh, they were the muscles of a fighter; they seemed to sing a song of warning even as he beheld them. But her manner of dress was most arresting. A creation of flowing gauzy fabric in the richest blue he had ever laid eyes on, embroidered at the edges with a fine silver thread that seemed to shine much like that of the stars in the night sky. The cut was feminine, but somehow accentuated her quiet power, giving her the dominant role in any conversation or debate. And even as he took her in, he thought it very strange that he could discern so much of her presence just by observing her in the briefest of seconds, when it usually took him many weeks to discern as much in the ladies of the court. And her eyes, they were hazel with gold and yet they also seemed to emanate the same shade of fathomless blue as her dress. And she was smiling wickedly at him.

"And to think, Son of Morzan, that you had only just informed your King that you wished to never see me again, and yet there you stand, drinking me in like a man lost in the desert for weeks." She said this all very softly, and so very detached as to draw him back to the present realm.

"It is a first to find a woman so enjoying my inner chambers with such a countenance as though she were my wife." He replied just as softly as her, stepping in and closing his doors behind him.

"Indeed, all the world is mine. This is something you will accept."

"I'm not a good pupil. I doubt I will accept anything from you so easily."

"Then we shall have to change that as well." She was still smiling. Murtagh now stood over her, his height casting a shadow over her; the darkness only enhanced the emanating blue.

"Why have you come here?" He no longer wished to exchange any more pleasantries with her this night.

"I am here to inform you of the new training you will undergo under my tutelage. I will see you tomorrow in my Study before dawn. I'm certain you remember how to get there?"

"I never forget my wanderings."

"I'm certain you do not." Again, her wicked smile did not leave. It was as though she was hinting at something far deeper than he wanted to explore.

"I will be there before dawn tomorrow. Now may I have my privacy?" She sat up at last, standing within an inch of his body. They stood there in silence, as she looking him straight on in the face, her eyes scanning darkly into his own. He said nothing, nor did he back down, but waited to see what she would do.

"You know, I knew there was a good reason for the choices I have made. I do not regret a single one now that I am able to behold you in person, right here, this very night. I can promise you this Murtagh: Very soon, you will take my breath away." And with that incredibly forward oath, she slipped around him and headed towards the doors. As Murtagh turned to follow her, she gave her salutations for the night. "Goodnight Murtagh, Son of Selena."

The doors closed with an audible click, and Murtagh was for once alone. But he would get very little rest tonight. She had given his mind so much to ramble and grapple with that his dreams were sure to be wild and exotic, filled with confusion and curiosity unlike anything he had slept through before.

It was habit that guided Murtagh's body through the motions of predawn hygienic rituals. His mind was abnormally absent, still lost in the dark reaches of subconscious thought. His face spoiled into a sour look as he accepted his present circumstances just before reaching the point where her door would materialize, hopefully. And like the magic he was once again growing accustomed to, he was thrown off by his surroundings upon entering the threshold. Where he remembered rows of shelves full of disturbing grimoire was at present the trees of the Spine. _I know this place_. It was a resounding fact than a thought, but it rang clear as a spoken voice in the ether surrounding him. A carefully constructed mask of detachment hid the anxiety that grew with each heartbeat.

"You need to quiet your center." Turning sharply he saw her come forth from the towering trunks. He didn't respond but took in her dress. In the grey predawn aura, her gown was a delicate blending of resplendent white, descending into yellow, then gold, then a pale blue, and a hem of mint green and rich dark earth. Never in his life had he ever seen such expert dying.

"It is a gorgeous work of art, is it not?" She too looked at it, her hands stroking the silky texture with a reverence. "Think no more on its creation, soon enough you too will know how to fashion your desires into creation. Fairths are children's games. Come." Without a word of rebuttal he followed her up the steep hillside till they reached its peak. At the highest point of the Spine, Murtagh was able to see the Beor Mountains to the South, and Du Weldenvarden's green canopy to the North. It was directly East that he saw the white light of the suns corona just edging over the visible horizon.

"Have you ever taken the energy of the sun?" His confused expression was proof enough. "The sun is an immense source of energy. Just like darkness, there is always light somewhere in the world. And it is constantly being renewed, it will not die for many billions of millennia. You wonder where your king gets the strength to perform half the spells he is capable of? I am going to show you.

"Now," She stood behind him as she proceeded to manually align him correctly as she lectured. "the key to this is letting go, which requires the correct posture. Feet hip width apart, pelvis tucked, core supported from within, shoulders relaxed, neutral, and chin up, jaw loose, hands at your side open to capture every last ray of light produced by the sun.

"Right. You are much easier to work with than he was." She said this through a vexed sigh that was lined with satisfaction. "Much more pliant, you are. I want you to silence all thoughts, and listen not to the life around you, but energy. It will be a very distinct song, a rhythm more than a sound heard by ears. It will get louder as it burns its way across the soil till it reaches you. From there, all you need to is to let yourself get swept up in the euphoric rush. If you do not relinquish total control, you will not absorb a single thread of the energy you are aiming to collect. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good, because it's coming. I will pull you back when the sun is completely risen. We shall see if you able to match the tales sung of you." He had no chance to respond as she had closed her eyes and positioned herself to embrace the sun. Turning to face the East once more, he too allowed his eyes to close and his thoughts to cease. He struggled to hear the energy that she had spoken of, and it was not until he remembered the one time he had focused on the wrong source of life when his father was still alive that he felt the familiar buzz. And with each successive moment it grew heavier, faster, louder. It was the moment he felt the light just warm his toes that the sound reached an all encompassing crescendo. It was in that moment that he felt in all at once; it was as though every particle of ether now revolved around his person with such intensity that it sent him beyond faintness. As the invasive pulse grew more aggressive, he fought with himself to let go of his barriers and allow it to sweep through him. Then, just like that, like the right piece of the puzzle lining up, he felt himself go lax, and was lit on fire. The heat spread rapidly through his flesh as deep as the marrow within his bones, it was on its own path, going against the racing of his heart. Both fear and euphoria warred within his mind until even that was consumed in the heat of morning light. Everything was open, every riddle was solved, every question was answered, and everything was made clear in an unrecorded span of time. Every became infinite, and gravity was a distant memory at the edges of his mind. And then, as quickly as it came, it left. Like the water drained from the baths, he felt reality weighing him down once more. Opening his eyes he saw that the sun was fully in the sky, already beginning its daily trek across the great expanse of sky. Looking to his left, he saw her glowing with the sun's stolen warmth; he had reason to believe that he too mirrored her aura.

_What have you done?_ It was Thorn's first and blatantly disturbed question voiced to his rider.

_I certainly don't know, but I know that I feel more alive than I ever have._ Murtagh was just heading back to his quarters. After returning just as mystically as they came, she left him with explicit instructions to continue to do this every morning for the next three weeks. The prospect of not seeing her for another three weeks added an extra spring in his step.

_It's really disturbing me. Whatever you did is really infectious._

_Oh, my apologies, I didn't know you to be so sensitive._

_Don't get smart with me. I outweigh you, remember?_

_No need for a reminder._ It was before he had met her that during one of their training session Thorn had "accidentally" fallen on Murtagh. It took the King's healing to repair the shattered ribs and punctured lungs. The memory was never far when Thorn was around. Turning right, Murtagh thrust open the doors, sending the terrified maids from their work to hastily bow to higher rank. Murtagh waved a hand flippantly, a sign agreed upon that they were to continue their work as he strode through to freshen up before joining the Twins for further psychological play. _Do you think I should warn the?_

_Have they ever been so kind to you?_

_You're right. Best we keep to ourselves._ With a sadistic smile, he turned and headed for general sparring rooms to meet them at the appointed time.


End file.
